


Button Fly Fic

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-17
Updated: 2004-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy sees Dom in button fly jeans, and is unsettled by his reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

It starts with a pair of button fly jeans and the realization that Billy hasn’t gotten laid in far too long.

The music in the club throbs a steady accompaniment to his discomfort as he watches those jeans gyrate into the hips of some trashy young tart out on the dance floor. It’s an unfamiliar situation for Billy. He’s never been shy when he sees something he wants. And what he wants he almost always gets; sure, he’s a bit of a playboy, but he never gives his partners reason to complain. Although up till now, what he’s wanted has usually been packaged in short skirts or maybe capris, not skin-tight button fly jeans with a slightly obscene bulge in the front.

It’s not even so much the fact that he finds himself eyeing up a bloke that bothers Billy. He’s always had a healthy appetite for sex and variety, and while he’s never found a man he wanted enough to take to bed with him, he’s always promised himself that if he did fancy a bloke, he wouldn’t hesitate. Which would be great, except that the bloke in the button flies, the bloke that’s making Billy’s own jeans feel a bit tight at the moment, is none other than his best mate. _Fuck_ , he thinks, for the umpteenth time that night. If nothing else, he’s consistent.

A couple of hours ago, he and Dom were getting ready to go out. He’s pretty sure he didn’t feel the need to jump his mate then. They were joking about getting Billy laid, in fact, after the last 6 weeks of unaccustomed celibacy, not to mention his newly-minted, officially single status. And not a hint of wanting to rip down Dom’s tracksuit bottoms and bend him over his kitchen table. Not until the button flies came out.

He’s spent the last month in self-assigned purgatory, trying to figure out why things weren’t working out with Ali. Well, alright, not entirely self-assigned. There’s the little detail wherein she kicked him out of the house and told him he had a month to figure those things out, and not to come back until he did. At the end of that month, the only thing he’s figured out is that life without Ali isn’t all that bad. Not that he doesn’t miss her, of course, but the truth is, they’ve grown apart, and he just hasn’t wanted to admit it until she forced him to think about it.

And the two weeks before that…well, let’s just say the line “I have a headache” seemed to be a never ending refrain. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t bother to figure out what. He didn’t bother with a lot of things. Hell, he knows he could have had Ali in bed if he really wanted, any time in those two weeks, or the month that followed. For that matter, he could probably catch a plane back right now, and have her spread out for him like a Christmas dinner in a matter of minutes. It’s a gift, and he knows it, and he never takes it for granted. He’s always known what seemingly casual caress will melt down his partner’s defenses as if they never existed. He knows whether to smile or smirk or purr her name, whether to act desperate or confident, romantic or demanding. He knows every lover he’s ever had like the back of his hand, and he has a pretty good instinct for the ones he hasn’t had – yet. But all that time, he didn’t bother. And that should have been sign enough that something was wrong.

That probably explains it, he decides. His abstinence. His long dry spell. That’s why he’s staring at his best mate’s arse with such total fascination, despising the feminine hand that slips over it, blocking his view of that lush, decadent curve. He scowls at the hand, as if it’s going to care.

Surely that explains, too, his reaction when Dom first tried on the ultra-tight jeans this evening. “Whaddaya think, Bills? Orlando says they’re all the rage in Japan now. Guess my baggies are out for a bit.”

And then he turned, and Billy had to swallow. Twice. No, three times. His mouth had gone as dry as the Mojave, and he couldn’t seem to look away. There’re laws against that type of display, he’s sure. He just has to figure out where, so he can hide out there – at least until the rise in his own jeans goes back down.

Damn. He _really_ needs to get laid. That must be it, he thinks. Although it doesn’t really explain why, with all the lovely young things writhing on the dance floor or glancing flirtatiously his way, his eyes are still burning a hole into his best friend’s denims. Tracing that mouth-wateringly rounded curve. Straining to see into the shadows between Dom and his new dance partner, trying to catch a glimpse of that firm bulge, the very thought of which is making him twitch and harden inexplicably.

He licks his lips. Christ, does Dom have to grind _everyone_ he dances with? Doesn’t he realize what it’s doing to Billy? No, of course he doesn’t, Billy answers himself immediately. And that’s the way it needs to stay.

He blows a hot breath upward, making the fringe of hair on his forehead flutter in the humid air of the club. He tugs at the crotch of his own jeans, the movement conveniently hidden under the table, much like the hard-on that jumps enthusiastically at the friction and added warmth of his hand. _Yeah_ , that feels…

 _Fuck._ He jerks his hand away, cursing as he cracks the back of his wrist on the table edge. He wrenches his eyes away from Dom’s lithe figure, still rubbing pornographically against the arse of his latest partner, a handsome bloke nearer to Billy’s age. He curses again, forcing himself to scan the club for some pretty little thing in a skirt. If he does get caught stroking himself under the table, at least it won’t be while visually devouring his best mate.

But that thought leads to visions of devouring Dom in other ways, and suddenly all those half-forgotten fantasies from his youth that were barely more than curiosity then all come flooding back to him in hot, pulsing clarity. He can see himself, on his knees, popping those buttons open, one by one, while staring up into stormy blue eyes that watch him hotly.

Dom doesn’t wear pants. Billy knows that, but the knowledge has never left him painfully hard and throbbing before, his swollen cock pushing insistently at his own boxers, the way it does now. He can see Dom’s thick erection springing free of the denim, filling Billy’s palm with hot, silky flesh, hard and pulsing and so very responsive. Dom’s breath hisses out as Billy’s hand sweeps down to the base, his grip firm, and then back up to the sensitive head, dragging the foreskin up until he can brush his thumb over the wet slit.

Dom shivers, and then moans as Billy’s other hand cups his balls gently, teasing lightly at the tender, sensitive flesh, slipping behind and rubbing until Dom cries out and thrusts hard into Billy’s pumping fist. Billy licks his lips. It’s too much for him. He’s going to – _has_ to – taste his best friend’s cock. The thought should be scary, but what’s really disturbing is how much it turns him on. He lowers his mouth, lips parted, tongue darting out in anticipation, and then…

“Billy?” Dom’s voice jerks Billy back to reality. He’s standing in front of the table, looking at Billy curiously. “Earth to Bills.”

Billy mumbles an unintelligible reply, blushing, and slides from the booth quickly, brushing past Dom with a muttered “gotta get a drink”. What he really means is that he needs to escape, needs to get away. He really _hasn’t_ had enough to drink, but more to the point, he knows there’s no way he can sit and have a conversation with Dom when he’s just been fantasizing about sucking his friend’s cock. Well, was ready to, anyway. Very, _very_ ready. Hell, _eager_ would be a better word. Still is eager, if his insistent and very obvious erection is any sign. And he has a bad feeling it is.

“Hey!”

Billy looks down to see a hand on his arm, and then up to see Dom looking at him oddly. Billy licks his lips, determined that his gaze won’t slip back down to… _fuck_ , so much for that plan.

The next thing he knows, Dom’s pushing him into the space behind the booth, shoving him up against the wall in a small alcove where another booth must have been removed and never replaced. The alcove is dark, and the floor’s sticky, proving that it’s been put to obvious uses ever since. Billy feels as if he’s in a daze as his back hits the wall, barely notices the look in his friend’s eye. He blinks as Dom’s palms land on the wall on either side of his head.

Dom’s face presses alarmingly close to his own, bluegrey gaze glinting dangerously. “Got your eye on something, Bills?”

Billy shudders, recognizing Dom’s predatory side. He can feel Dom’s breath, warm on his own lips and it feels better than he’d like to admit. His eyes start to drift close, but just as they do, some slight movement makes those buttons on Dom’s jeans catch a random glint of light, and Billy’s transfixed. His lips part hungrily. He can’t look away, even though he knows this is all wrong. Warning flags are waving in his head, beacons are blaring and red lights flashing, and he distantly hears a robotic voice intoning “Danger, Will Robinson!”

He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice Dom’s hand move, so he’s startled when it grips his wrist. He doesn’t even struggle as Dom presses Billy’s palm over that button fly, down over the growing bulge.

 _Fuck._ Is it supposed to feel this good, the firm push of another man’s cock against his hypersensitive palm, the buttons cool and hard, the denim rough and hot? Is he supposed to cup it of his own accord, squeeze it, feel his mouth go dry and his pulse skyrocket at the sound of his best mate moaning, the feel of him pushing insistently into Billy’s trembling hand? He couldn’t pull away if he wanted to, Dom’s pressing Billy’s hand there, holding it captive as he rubs into it, with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, and his breath coming in gasps. And fuck, but that feels good.

And then Dom’s pulling his hand away, dragging him out of the alcove, out of the club, and Billy’s whimpering in protest because he didn’t get a chance to flick open a single button. And he wants to.

*

Dom still has Billy’s wrist in his grip when he fishes his keys out of his pocket and opens the door to his apartment with this other hand, but his grasp is less bruising, more caressing now. He hasn’t let go since he jerked Billy out of that alcove; managing to open, dial and use his mobile to call a cab with one hand while they made their way out of the club was particularly impressive, Billy thinks.

When he got Billy outside, Dom just looked at him for a moment, the wrist in his hand the only contact between them, although they stood close. The southern California night was even more humid than inside the club, and the air felt thick with damp and tension. Dom started to say something, but Billy didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to have to talk, or think, or do anything but feel, because he knew if he did, he was going to have to think about all the reasons why getting sexually involved with his best friend was a bad idea. And then he’d lose his nerve, and Billy couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way about sex.

So Dom didn’t get any more than Billy’s name out before Billy hooked his fingers in the beltloops of those lovely jeans and tugged, bringing Dom’s hips flush with his own, their erections brushing together through layers of denim, making them both gasp. And then Dom had Billy up against another wall, bodies pressed together head to toe, and his tongue was in Billy’s mouth, swirling and tasting and stroking over and around Billy’s own tongue in a way that made Billy moan hungrily and press back, kiss back, thrust into Dom’s mouth to return the favor. The kiss was urgent, almost feral, and nothing like Billy had ever known. He couldn’t get enough. Dom had his right hand held against the wall over their heads, so Billy thrust his left hand into Dom’s hair, holding his friend’s head still while he took over the kiss, devouring and feverish and then gentle by turns on the swollen flesh of Dom’s mouth. The contrast made Dom moan, and Billy smiled triumphantly against his lips, feeling in control for the moment, almost normal. And then Dom thrust his hips hard into Billy’s, and all illusion of control spun away again.

Needless to say, they missed the first cab, and had to call another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sees Dom in button fly jeans, and is unsettled by his reaction.

Dom’s hand is shaking when he digs out his keys.

His left arm is wrapped around his own waist, his hand still cupping Billy’s right wrist lightly, caressingly. Meanwhile, Billy’s behind him, rubbing his swollen cock against Dom’s arse in a way that’s slowly driving him mad. Or maybe not so slowly.

 _Think._ He has to think, has to retain blood flow to his brain just a little while longer. He has only this one shot, and he knows it. If he messes this up, his chances with Billy are gone. Dust in the wind, mate. Just like he thought they always were right up until a couple of hours ago.

He’d like to stop and try to figure out what happened, what changed, but Billy’s got his hand wrapped around that fly again, squeezing and stroking and oh God, blood’s abandoning his brain for points south at a dizzying rate.

 _Stop._ Have to stop and think, Monaghan. Gotta do this right, gotta make this so good he’ll never want to leave. Gotta find a way to make him fall in love with you tonight. Cos if you don’t, you’re fucked in more ways than one, mate. No pressure.

When he feels Billy’s left hand at his waist, working the first button from its loop, he wonders just how little blood a brain can operate on. Just enough to control vital functions, that’s all he needs. When he feels Billy’s fingers brush his quivering stomach, he wonders if he can get by without that much. Because he’s so hard now, so hard he thinks he’s going to die from it, especially if Billy doesn’t stop what he’s doing to Dom with that beautiful, heavenly, tight hot little right hand that still cups, squeezes, rubs him through the rough denim, giving him that friction he needs more than air just now. Or maybe it’s that he’ll die if Billy _does_ stop. Yes, that seems far more likely, Dom thinks, or would do if he could actually manage to think at this point.

His runaway train of thought derails entirely as Dom feels the second button slip free, feels Billy teasing the heavy, pulsing head of his cock with softly-callused fingertips. Dom moans, nearly lost now. Billy takes a deep breath – Dom hears it clearly in the sudden quiet – and slides his hand in between skintight denim and heated flesh, curling his slight fingers around Dom’s straining erection, squeezing, sliding…without warning, Dom’s train of thought crashes into a brick wall of lust. There are no survivors.

*

 _Open the door, Dom, open the fucking door already._ Billy’s impatience is matched only by his need, and he’s only a moment away from sinking his teeth into Dom’s shoulder, right through the black knit top, now damp with sweat from the humid night, the dancing at the club, and the feverish makeout session outside of it. He needs to get them inside the door, because he’s only one step away from tearing Dom’s button fly open, dragging the jeans to his ankles, unzipping his own fly and bending Dom over right here on the stoop, nudging Dom’s thighs apart with his knee, and spreading Dom’s cheeks with his thumbs and dear fucking Christ, sliding into him here and now, in front of God and everybody, with no more lube than the precum he can already feel slicking the inside of his boxers. Billy lets himself get lost in that thought for just a fraction of a second, arching into Dom’s tight arse with a low groan, before he forces himself back to reality.

 _Fuck._ He’s standing here with his hands in his best mate’s trousers, halfway to giving him a handjob that’s got his own urgently throbbing hard-on twitching with anticipation. How did this happen? This morning he was flirting with a lovely stewardess, this afternoon he was anticipating pulling a willing girl at the club, for the night or maybe for the length of his open-ended visit, and now here he is, throbbing with uncontrollable lust for a mate he’s watched puke his guts out many a hungover morning in New Zealand and since, a bloke he’s had belching and farting contests with, for Christ’s sake. These are not thoughts that inspire lust in him, by any means. But then he thinks of that button fly…

“Fuck.” This time he says the word out loud, but just barely, exhaling it into Dom’s neck, making the younger man shiver. Of its own accord, Billy’s hand strokes up and down Dom’s cock once, and then again, feeling it pulse against his fingertips. Christ, he never thought it would feel this good. He clamps down hard on the sudden urge to pull his hand out of Dom’s jeans, bring it to his face so he can inhale Dom’s musky scent, lick the taste of Dom’s sweat from his fingers.

Billy groans, presses his face into Dom’s neck. Feels Dom push his arse back into Billy’s aching erection. Thinks he’s going to come or die any minute now. Hears Dom slip the key into the lock, finally. _Thank God._

*

As they stumble through the door, Billy’s hand slips from Dom’s jeans, and his wrist from Dom’s grasp. Dom makes a sound of protest, but it’s cut off by Billy’s hot, hard mouth, feverish on his own as the door slams behind them, and Billy’s hands grip him, forceful and demanding. Sometime during the cab ride their roles have reversed, and Billy’s now become the predator, Dom thinks, with a carnal shiver. He wasn’t allowed to talk during the ride; whenever he tried, Billy’s beautiful, naughty little fingers would tease him to the point where he had to bite back a moan, concentrate all his energy on not arching up into that hand, and giving the cabbie a free show.

Billy’s still reveling in the dominant role, one hand thrust into Dom’s hair, holding Dom in place while he bites, licks, and sucks Dom’s mouth into submission. His other hand snakes under Dom’s shirt, stroking the quivering muscles of his stomach, slipping up to flick and rub and pinch at his sensitive nipples until Dom moans helplessly. He’s lost, grinding his denim-clad hard-on into Billy’s thigh now, mindless of anything but the fantasy he’s living out right here in his front hall. His hands grasp at Billy’s firm arse convulsively, making the older man buck hard into Dom with a growl that turns his knees to water.

And then it’s Dom’s turn to be backed up against a wall, held in place by unyielding hips and strong hands, hard thighs pressing him back, and he loves it. Billy’s mouth, so hot and demanding on his, Billy’s tongue thrusting thick and hungry between his lips, drawing a low moan out of him. He can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of Billy. He still can’t quite believe this is his Bills, wanting him, taking control of him, making him beg, but then he feels the thick bulge of Billy’s cock push against his hip, hard evidence of the fantasy made flesh, and it’s better than he ever dreamed. He sucks greedily on Billy’s tongue, gasping when the kiss breaks, allowing his mate’s deft fingers peel his shirt off, momentarily separating them.

As soon as he’s free of it, Dom’s reaching for Billy again, cupping his face and kissing him, hard and urgent until Billy takes control again. Billy’s kiss is rough and demanding, grinding into his swollen lips and then almost immediately gentle, tongue soothing the split flesh, the contrast making Dom’s head spin. He needs this, needs it so badly, his body pulsing with hunger, his lips burning, tingling, throbbing under Billy’s slick tongue. His long fingers fumble with the buttons on Billy’s shirt as he moans into the kiss, desperate for the dizzying pleasure of skin on skin. Too damn many buttons, and – oh _fuck_ , that mouth. He can’t take it, can’t concentrate on the buttons when Billy’s tongue is fucking his mouth like a cock, and oh God, Dom wants that, too. Billy’s hips are all that hold him up now, keeping him flat against the wall when his own knees won’t support him anymore.

Finally, the last one slips free, and Dom pushes the shirt away impatiently, his hands eager to feel, explore, claim the hot, vibrant skin they’ve itched to touch for years. He tears his mouth from Billy’s and sinks his teeth into the naked flesh of his mate’s shoulder. _This is mine,_ he thinks fiercely, possessively. Billy can play the predator all he wants, but Dom doesn’t intend to be helpless prey.

Billy cries out – whether in passion or pain, Dom can’t tell. Rough hands force his bare shoulders back against the cool wall, and hard green eyes pierce him through, glittering with something Dom can’t read. Lust, hunger – anger? He can’t tell. He only knows he doesn’t see love. Dom refuses to let his sudden sadness, his irrational disappointment overwhelm his need, determined to live in this moment, drink up every minute if this is all he can get.

*

 _Fuck._ Billy sees the love in Dom’s eyes. He knows what it is. A part of him knows this is wrong, pleads with him to stop for the sake of their friendship, but his visceral greed for Dom’s body isn’t listening, is barely under the thinnest control. They can deal with the friendship and the love tomorrow. Tonight, he’s going to learn and experience everything he can, everything he wants, and right now, sucking and fucking his best mate is exactly that.

The teeth marks on his shoulder throb, but not unpleasantly. Irrationally, he’s pleased, aroused, even, by Dom’s desire to mark him. The sensation flows straight to his cock, making the blood thrum hotly in his veins. He drags his fingers down Dom’s chest, nails scraping lightly, exulting in the sensation and Dom’s gasping reaction both.

When his hands reach Dom’s waist, Billy lets his thumb rim his friend’s belly button lightly, enjoying the whimper it elicits. The thumb strokes down the trail of dark hair, into the vee of Dom’s half-open fly, as Billy slides his hand over the warm, taut flesh.

Dom is panting now, his abdomen heaving against Billy’s palm with each breath. Billy smiles, loving the reaction. He’s not nervous about this. He can do this, he knows, first time and all, and make it good. That’s his talent, after all.

His fingers curl impatiently around the two halves of the fly and he jerks last three buttons free. Billy feels his mouth go dry as Dom’s thick erection springs free, swollen and rigid and heavy against the denim. He licks his lips, resists the urge stroke himself at the fucking sexy sight.

He drops to his knees, dragging Dom’s jeans with him, his eyes devouring every inch of flesh as he reveals it. His hands slide up Dom’s warm thighs, and he shivers as the hair rasps across his sensitive palms. Christ, that feels good. His nails dig into Dom’s hips, drawing out a low moan that shoots straight to his cock. _Yes, oh fuck yes._ Billy bucks his own hips breathlessly against the confining denim of his jeans, seeking any friction he can get. He looks up at his mate, sees the tortured need in those stormy eyes, and an answering lust surges through him, making him tremble with it.

 _Oh God._ Dom looks down at Billy –and fuck, does he look good on his knees – and sees those soft, perfect lips, swollen from kisses, parted so close to his aching hard-on, so fucking close and it’s killing Dom, taking him apart as Billy wraps his strong hand tightly around the base of his cock, fingers barely long enough to reach, but that hand… _fuck_. You’d think he did this every sodding day, wanked off blokes with those firm, sure strokes, with those perfect little hands, those _bloody-fucking-talented_ hands. Dom gasps, his head tipped to the wall, his own hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Billy’s thumb teases the vein, and he thrusts his hips hard, feels Billy’s other hand cupping, teasing his balls, and then… _oh fuck yeah, right there Billy, oh God, don’t stop_. And suddenly the touch is gone, leaving him bereft. But then he feels a wet, slick sensation and looks down again to see Billy spreading his precum messily over the swollen, throbbing purple head of his cock with two fingers, while licking his lips and looking for all the world like he wants to swallow Dom whole. And Dom trembles.

Billy’s trying to concentrate, wants so badly to make this good. _Fuck_ , but it shouldn’t feel this good, this hot from this end, should it? He can’t think, keeps getting lost in the hot, whimpering, begging noises Dom’s making, the way he’s panting Billy’s name, so fucking sexy. Billy sucks in a shaky breath, as he cups Dom’s sensitive balls in his hand, rubbing behind them firmly until Dom thrusts uncontrollably in his grasp, moaning and jerking and making Billy lose his control. _Oh fuck, Dom._ Just for a moment, he has to let go of his mate’s testicles, and grab himself hard, jerking the zipper down in a frustrated rush, and freeing his own throbbing erection. He wraps his fingers around the base, squeezing tightly to keep from coming, his eyes shut as he struggles to get control.

And then he hears Dom’s voice, low and needy. “Fuck, yes, Billy, do it, fucking _do it_. Let me watch you.”

Billy shudders hard, and gives in just for a few tantalizing strokes. He can’t resist Dom’s moan of approval. He needs this, needs it _too_ much. He looks up at his friend’s half-lidded, slack-jawed expression, and gathers his shredded self-control together. He needs his control back, _needs_ to make Dom come for him, needs it so badly it makes him shake. He licks his lips. There’s a drop of precum poised to drip from the slit of Dom’s cock, and he leans forward to catch it on his tongue without thinking. He moans, low and urgent. It’s so hot, so sexy, so fucking good, and he wants more.

“Please, Billy, please oh fuck, please, yes, Billy!” Dom’s words end on a gasp, but Billy barely hears. He’s shaken, hit hard by the taste, the feel, the heat of Dom’s velvety cock on his tongue. He licks the head, over and over, swirling around it, sucking it into his mouth. Dom’s hands are in his hair, tugging, and he looks up, exhaling through his nose, his lips wrapped tightly around the swollen shaft. He stares straight into Dom’s feverish blue eyes and sucks hard.

Dom cries out sharply, and thrusts deep, his hands sliding around to cup Billy’s head, holding him still while he fucks his mouth. It’s too much, too fucking much, and he’s going to come right here and now if he looks down again and sees Billy’s beautiful, profane little mouth wrapped around his cock, sees Billy stroking his own thick erection, letting Dom see how much he wants this, sees Billy’s brilliant eyes glittering with lust and need to match his own. Dom squeezes his eyes shut, surges forward again, feeling the throbbing head of his cock nudge the back of Billy’s throat, feels it spread open for him, embracing his swollen cockhead in tight, hot contractions.

Dom is whimpering now, gasping Billy’s name – pleading for something – but Billy can’t hear, he’s caught up in the pure tactile pleasure of sucking Dom’s cock. His cheeks hollow around the shaft and his tongue teases the vein as he bobs up and down, lets Dom thrust in and out with growing urgency.

Every reaction, every sound, every little sign of pleasure and need sparks a fierce, answering pleasure and need in Billy. If he could stop and think right now, he’d be shaken by how much more aroused he is than he can remember being in years, if ever. But he can’t stop and think right now, he can’t stop at all. All he can do is swallow Dom faster and faster, deeper and deeper until the thick head of Dom’s cock is sliding into his throat with every thrust. He grabs Dom’s arse with both hands, and lets the fingers of one hands just brush his entrance lightly, but that’s all it takes.

Dom’s thrusting, shattering, coming apart in Billy’s hands, his mouth, surging and swelling and exploding in mindless ecstasy. He’s scarcely aware of Billy moaning around him, taking him deep, swallowing him whole, he only knows intense exhilaration and release.

Billy moans, feels Dom’s cock swell hotly between his lips, and push deeper into his throat. And then Dom’s coming in his mouth, hot bursts coating his tongue, crying out Billy’s name over and over, and shaking like a leaf in his hands.

Billy wishes he could see Dom’s face as he comes, but he’s consumed by the taste, the sounds, the intense, visceral sensation of Dom’s cock, fucking his mouth, exploding inside. Fuck, but he wants that, wants to come inside Dom, yelling his name.

He lets his mate’s shrinking erection slip from his mouth, and presses a quick, tender kiss into Dom’s thigh before standing up. He feels a hand on his cheek, and looks into Dom’s dazed eyes, seeing more emotion than he can deal with there, and so he closes his own. And then Dom’s lips are bruising his, tongue thrusting inside to taste himself in Billy’s mouth. The knowledge makes Billy shudder unaccountably.

“Thanks,” Dom whispers, watching him. Billy nods, not looking at him, and pulls him back into a long, hard kiss. He doesn’t want to talk, it’s too intimate.

He’s lost when Dom pulls away, kicking off shoes, socks, and jeans from his ankles. And then Dom’s hands are on him, stripping away his own clothes, stroking his cock once, teasing him, but letting go too quickly, grabbing his hand instead to lead him toward the bedroom.

“Coming?” Dom grins, cheeky as ever.

“Soon, with any luck,” he growls curtly.

Dom just laughs wickedly, and pulls Billy behind him.


	3. Button Fly Fic by canciona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sees Dom in button fly jeans, and is unsettled by his reaction.

Dom’s room is a mess, but Billy doesn’t care. Once in the door, all he can see is the bed, and it shocks him how much that wild, uncontrolled part of him that he keeps under tight rein wants to just push Dom down on it, face first, and press into his tight arse with no more than a spit-lube, fuck him into the mattress roughly, without kisses or caresses or gentleness. He knows instinctively that Dom would love it, would plead and beg – and damned if he didn’t beg prettily – and moan for Billy to fuck him hard, reveling in his own lack of control.

But another part of Billy wants to do this right. This is his best mate, after all. Although a quick, brutal fuck might be more merciful come morning, it occurs to him.

But then he doesn’t have a choice, it’s _him_ being pushed down onto the bed – on his back – and Dom’s on top of him, kissing him passionately until he’s writhing with want, hunger, _need_ beneath his best friend, the erotic friction of skin on skin short-circuiting any thoughts he might have had, second or otherwise. Hands stroke down his sides, slip between them as Dom breaks the kiss, leaving Billy breathless. Dom kneels above him, straddling him, and Billy sees that his cock is already half-hard again. As Dom’s long fingers wrap around Billy’s rock-hard erection, measuring and stroking, Billy whimpers and bucks into his grip. Dom smiles at him with frank approval, and Billy feels suddenly, unbearably hot and hard. Dom leans over him without releasing his stiff cock, presses a quick, hard kiss to his lips, and then sprinkles more kisses, with a few nibbles and licks thrown in, over his neck, shoulder, chest, nipples –

“Fuck, Dom, you’re killing me,” Billy gasps, forgetting that he wasn’t going to talk.

The only response is a throaty chuckle and several twisting strokes up and over and down his rigid erection, until Billy’s thrusting helplessly upward, all control lost to the erotic magic and torture of Dom’s hands and tongue and _oh fuck_ , teeth.

When Dom moves off of him, Billy looks down, alarmed. Dom just grins at him, and leans over to thrust his tongue hotly into Billy’s belly button. Billy gasps. _Oh._ Right. Better angle. Because now he can –

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck –” Belatedly, Billy recognizes his own voice. To hell with the no-talking idea, that was before Dom’s tongue was painting liquid fire over his overstimulated cock. Billy’s thrashing beneath Dom’s mouth now, thrusting uncontrollably up into the tightest, wettest, hottest, _best_ fucking blowjob he’s ever gotten. And then Dom moans around him, the vibrations tipping him over the edge, and Billy feels that hot, shivery tingling start in his toes, his spine, the pit of his belly, and – _shite_.

“Please please pleasepleaseplease,” he’s begging, pleading – and he hasn’t begged since he was a teenager – but Dom’s not giving in. His hand is wrapped like a vice around the base of Billy’s cock, cutting off his orgasm for the second time that night. Billy’s certain his balls must be bluer than – than – oh fuck, he can’t do analogies right now – just fucking blue.

“Dom, please,” he whimpers into Dom’s mouth, which has somehow found his, and then he’s sucking Dom’s tongue like a starving man, tasting the salty tang of his own precum there, and surging hard into Dom’s tight grip when he realizes it.

“Billy.”

He’s panting, gasping, bucking his hips, arching his neck to try to get to Dom’s mouth, and what is it doing so far away?

“ _Billy._ ”

Billy blinks, hardly recognizing his own name. He makes an incoherent questioning noise.

“Billy,” Dom’s voice is low, thick, and it sends shivers up Billy’s spine. Dom looks right into his eyes. “I want you to fuck me.”

Billy stares up at him, mouth open, wordless, and then he shudders hard, and Dom tightens his grip painfully. He whimpers, and he’s not sure if it’s pleasure or pain.

“Nnghhh,” he replies helplessly. In his mind, that translates to ‘Oh God, Dom, I want you so badly, want nothing more than to fuck your brains out, make you come screaming my name while I’m balls-deep in your arse…then have a nap, maybe a cup of tea, and then fuck you again and again and again until I forget how, because I want you more right now than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my entire fucking life, and I don’t understand it, and it’s kind of scary, but I just know everything will be alright if I can fuck you right fucking now before I die of wanting it.’

But Dom understands – of course, he always understands Billy – and he’s straddling Billy again – and where did that bottle of lube come from? Oh right, the bedside table – only now Billy’s coherent enough to know just how he wants it. He rolls them over abruptly, so that he’s leaning over Dom from between his mate’s spread legs, plucking the bottle from his slightly stunned grasp with a catlike smile.

Billy flips the top open like a pro and fills his hand before tucking the bottle into the comforter for safekeeping. He rubs his hands together, enjoying the slick, liquid sensation as he warms it up. He may not have done this with another man, but he’s had his share of backdoor sex in his life. He grasps his own cock with one thickly-coated hand, humming with pleasure at the precious, slippery embrace, and wraps the other around Dom’s full and very hard erection, enjoying Dom’s gasp and thrust. As he’s got himself, well, _in hand_ now, he think wryly, he can do this right. He works the lube thoroughly, lingeringly over their cocks. He smiles breathlessly, knowing Dom’s watching him with growing impatience, even as he writhes in the liquid caress. When he’s got them both fully slicked, he reaches for the bottle again, and his aching erection brushes Dom’s in the process.

“Fuck,” he gasps, before rubbing them together again, deliberately, thrusting his hips, making Dom moan and buck and whimper beneath him. His own eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in his head from the intense pleasure. He jerks back, knowing it would be so easy for them to come like this, slick and hard against each other, and he wants to keep his promise, to fuck Dom right, and hell, he’s near to the breaking point himself at the thought of finally burying his cock in Dom’s lush, tight arse.

Dom’s lost beneath Billy’s touch, keening sounds escaping his lips as he surges up, trying to find that blinding pleasure of Billy’s cock, thrusting and sliding against his own. And then Billy’s touching him again, gripping and stroking his cock with one hand, and rubbing behind his balls with the other. He arches and writhes as Billy’s finger brushes his arsehole slickly, teasing nerve endings that deliver electric shocks straight to Dom’s tightening balls, his swelling erection, and then...Dom gasps, trembles, cries out, hands clenching in the sheets as one slick finger slides in slowly, pushing past the ring of tight muscle, twisting, and seeking and _oh God oh fuck yes please right there rightfuckingthere_.

Billy gasps for breath as he watches Dom writhe beneath his touch, as he feels the incredible, velvety tightness clench around his finger, as he finds and brushes Dom’s prostate, and exults in the cries and pleas that tumble from his mate’s lips. He slips his finger out slightly, drinking in the moan of protest, and the stiffening, shuddering reaction when he slides two fingers back in with a tight smile. He scissors his fingers slowly, trying desperately to stay calm, patient, when all he wants to do is replace his fingers with his hard, straining cock, and fuck his mate so hard they won’t be able to walk come morning. It’s all too much, and his control is tenuous at best. It’s not like him, this lack of willpower, he thinks wildly, but he’s helpless to control himself. As his fingers stroke Dom’s prostate with unerring accuracy, he’s shaking, panting as hard as Dom, his own breathy moans mingling with his mate’s. Billy finds the spot again, needing that reaction, pulsing with it, and Dom bucks so hard into his other hand than Billy loses his slippery grip.

“Dom?” His voice is choked, but he’s holding on – barely. He doesn’t know if two fingers are enough to stretch his friend, but he desperately hopes that they are.

“Fuck me, Billy, God, please fuck me yes now please yes,” Dom babbles, wrapping his legs tight around Billy.

Billy pulls his fingers out slowly, and taking a deep breath, angles the thick head of his cock against the tight resistance of Dom’s arsehole, and presses inside. _Fuck._ Billy can’t help but pause, gasp; the pleasure is exquisite. Dom’s whimpering beneath him, his eyes burning, pleading, so Billy pushes deeper, clearing the ring of muscle. Dom’s breath whooshes out.

“Alright, mate?” Billy asks, suddenly nervous. _Mate?_ Fuck, what do you call your best friend mid-shag, anyway?

Dom grins up at him reassuring, despite the glazed look in his eyes. “Just peachy, Bills. Were you going to fuck me, or – _shit._ ”

It’s Billy’s turn to grin, as he thrusts in deep and strokes Dom in perfect rhythm, hitting Dom’s prostate just as he squeezes the head of Dom’s cock, making him arch and curse and beg with every stroke-thrust…and Christ, but he does sound good begging, so good Billy can almost ignore the hot, pulsing tension building again inside, but it’s so sweet, so fucking good, and this time he’s not stopping.

He leans in and kisses Dom hard as he thrusts, nudging that spot again and again, strokes slickly over and over, loving the way Dom twists and writhes and fucks his hand while Billy fucks his arse with increasing abandon and pleasure.

“Fuck me, Billy,” Dom begs him shamelessly, panting, his eyes burning blue flame into Billy’s. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me –”

“Christ, Dom, I can’t stop, gonna come…”

“Fuck yeah Billy, come inside me, please oh please oh God oh please fucking come for me..”

“…coming Dom, I’mfuckingcomingforyou… _fuck!_ ” He thrusts hard into Dom, shaking with the violence of his orgasm as it hits him. His body is pulsing, his cock throbbing exquisitely, unbearably as he explodes into ecstasy in hot staccato pulses, burying himself deep inside of Dom, and crying out in waves of mindless release.

“YeahohGodBillyohGodyeah…yeah…” Billy opens his dazed eyes in time, needing to _see_ , as Dom arches up, panting and yelling and coming hard over Billy’s hand, coating his own stomach with liquid heat. Billy shudders with aftershocks as he feels Dom’s body clench and convulse around him, and they lay shaking together, rocked by the force of their spent passion.

Billy’s still drawing shallow breaths, feeling shaken by the intensity of his own orgasm, by the sight of Dom’s and how much it’s affecting him when he feels tired arms wrap around him, holding him close, and lips brushing a whisper of a kiss into his hair. And again he thinks: _fuck_.


	4. Button Fly Fic by canciona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sees Dom in button fly jeans, and is unsettled by his reaction.

Dom’s breathing hasn’t even slowed to normal when Billy slips out of and off of him. He looks up, meaning to ask some cocky question about his friend’s “first time”, but Billy’s already off the bed, and on his way to the door, still gloriously naked.

“Billy?” Dom curses the uncertainty in his voice.

Billy turns, with a grin that looks forced to Dom’s hyper-critical eye. “Thought I’d have a quick shower – don’t mind, do ya?” And in typical Billy fashion, he grabs Dom’s own bath towel off the hook on his door and heads for the bathroom without waiting for an answer.

Dom lies in bed, trying to tell himself that Billy acting normal is a good thing, but there’s a voice in his head pointing out that wanting to shower right after first-time sex is probably not a good thing at all. More like trying to wash away the evidence, he thinks.

 _Shit._ He sighs, and can hear his own tears in the sound. He curls up around a wad of blankets and tells himself he’s not going to cry like a girl because the object of his affections, having just shagged him into the mattress, can’t get away fast enough.

*

 _Fuck._ It’s Billy’s favorite word, of late. He presses his forehead to the cool tile of the shower wall as he lets the water drain off him, and tells himself he’s a lowly, selfish git. How the hell could he have done what he just did? Fucked his best mate, _knowing_ how Dom feels about him – he’d already suspected, if he’s honest, but there’s no mistaking it now – and knowing he doesn’t feel the same way. And then, getting up, leaving before the sweat and cum have a chance to dry. His mouth tightens with self-disgust.

It was too uncomfortable to stay. Or a little too comfortable, take your pick. Too easy to sink into the euphoric daze that follows a mind-blowing fuck like that – not that he’s ever had a fuck like that, and not just the part about being with a bloke – and too easy to curl into the loving arms of his best mate, murmuring the things that men say in that state, things he doesn’t mean, things that will only break Dom’s heart when they prove to be lies.

Because the truth of the matter is that he does love Dom. Just not the way Dom wants. He sighs. Why can’t it be simple? Why can’t they just be mates? The best of mates, yeah – Billy has to admit he’s never had a friend as close as Dom is, none he’s ever known so well, nor held so dear – but still mates. Not lovers.

Friends with benefits, perhaps, he thinks hopefully, and then scolds himself for greed, even as his cock stirs at the memory of what he’ll be giving up if he says no to that offer – and he’s sure Dom will offer.

But does he even want that? Even without Dom’s feelings for him…does he really want a relationship with another man, even a purely sexual one? _Especially_ a purely sexual one? Even if the other man is his best mate in the world. Even if the sex was fucking incredible, first time and all, when it should have been awkward and fumbling (and would have been, he knows, if it hadn’t been with Dom); even if he came harder than he has since he was a teenager, and sex was all shiny and new.

That must be it, he thinks. The newness. That’s what makes it so intense. It’ll wear off. _Would_ wear off, he corrects himself. If he were to give it the chance. But he’s not going to; it’d be too hard on Dom, on their friendship, which he imagines will be strained for a bit after this anyway – and he’s not looking forward to that – not to mention trying to hide it from the media. What a fucking nightmare that would be. Not that he hasn’t hid flings before, but the worst consequence has always been an angry girlfriend (his) or boyfriend (hers), and on one occasion, an angry husband, although he’s not proud of that. This time it would potentially be his career – and Dom’s, too – in serious jeopardy.

No, it can’t continue. Dom will understand. He may not be happy, but he’ll understand, Billy thinks. His mind made up, he reaches for the towel, and steps from the tub.

*

 _You’re not going to do this._ Dom forces himself to sit up, to let go of the blanket he’s strangling. _Billy didn’t promise you anything, it’s not his fault you had ridiculous hopes. You can’t blame him for this shit. Now get a grip, mate._ Determined to keep his cool despite the ache in his heart, he relaxes his muscles slowly, deliberately, and concentrates on the breathing exercises he uses in meditation, forcing himself to focus on his physical self, instead of his emotions.

Long, measured breaths in through his nose, feeling his lungs expand as they fill with cool air, feeling the oxygen rush in his bloodstream, releasing the air back out through his mouth, feeling his lungs deflate again. Rinse and repeat.

It works well enough that when Billy returns, Dom’s able to greet him with a grin and say, “You didn’t need to do that on my account, Bills. You didn’t smell _that_ bad.”

Billy snorts. “Thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do, have a good wash-up. You know, before I collect on that blowjob you owe me.” This time his cheeky grin is obviously genuine, and Dom feels a slow smile spread across his face, even as he fights down giddiness at the fact that Billy’s obviously not running from…this. What they’ve done. Him.

*

Well, fuck. Billy’s getting used to that succinct thought, thinks it may have taken up permanent residence in his brain, actually. He walked in, ready to tell Dom they couldn’t continue, but Christ, he couldn’t stand to see the pain behind Dom’s eyes. He never could, they’d been too close for too long; it was like hurting himself. And to know that Dom was smiling that fake smile, putting on an act for _him_ was just too much for Billy. As for the blowjob part…well, that just sort of slipped out. Blame it on his dick gaining temporary control of his mouth. It’s worked, though, because Dom’s smile, his _real_ smile is like the fucking sun coming out, and Billy always did love to make Dom smile, but hell, Dom’s never smiled at him like _this_ before.

“Come here, then.” His voice is husky, full of promise. Billy shudders at the sound, lets the towel drop, his eyes drifting shut momentarily. So much for his resolve; he can see it crumbling behind his eyelids.

And now he’s in real trouble, as he opens his eyes and takes the hand that Dom holds out, letting Dom pull him down on the bed. Because when did Dom’s eyes start to make him think _sex_ , and his lips make Billy hard just looking at them, and Christ, Billy can’t even let himself look lower, because he’s already fucked beyond belief, and more than that, he can’t tear his eyes from Dom’s gorgeous mouth and _fuck_ , when did he start thinking of his best mate’s mouth as _gorgeous_ and his tongue as a _beautiful fucking sin_ that he can’t get enough of, and –

Billy’s babbling inner monologue comes to a sudden, grinding halt at the hotwet feel of that gorgeous mouth – so fucking soft and firm and hard on his and oh fuck, that tongue dragging across his lips, pushing between them – doing things to him that he can’t blame on the beer or the button fly jeans anymore, and damned if he’ll admit it tomorrow, but he wants this more than he ever should. And it’s not the not getting laid excuse, either, because he just had the orgasm of his fucking life not half an hour ago, and yet here he is, hot and hard and wanting – _Dom_. And a part of him that he’ll surely disown in the morning starts to think that maybe this didn’t start with the button flies after all, maybe this has gone on for longer than he thinks. A lot longer.

And then he’s sat on the edge of the bed, and Dom’s kneeling between his thighs, pushing them apart with sure hands, and Billy’s thoughts are limited to words like _beautiful_ and _sex_ and _softhardwethot_ and _fuck_. Most especially _fuck_.

*

Dom feels like a kid at Christmas, and he intends to enjoy every minute. And more than that, he’s going to make sure Billy enjoys it – hell, he’ll make it so good for Billy that he won’t be able to leave. Because Dom can, and he knows it. He might not be able to make Billy fall in love with him, but he’ll settle for sexually addicted, at least for now. Someday, Billy will break his heart, he knows that, he’s _always_ known that, but until that day, Dom’s going to make every second count.

*

His hands move over Billy’s warm skin, drawing more heat to the surface, fascinated by the tactile pleasure of hair rasping delicately against his fingertips, his palms. He presses Billy’s thighs apart slowly, making a place for himself between them, and he’d like to claim that place as his, forever, but he’ll settle for this moment, for the heat and hunger lit in Billy’s green eyes, and for the broken breaths drawn in through parted lips as Billy watches him. For the pulse that makes Billy’s thickening erection bob in front of him – yes, he’ll settle for that. For now.

He licks his lips, and hears Billy moan softly. Smiles, to have made his Bills so hard already, so hard for him, so soon after that shivering, quaking pleasure they’d drowned in together so very recently.

Yes, Billy’s hard – although not as hard as he will be, Dom vows smugly – and hot and wanting now, but Dom’s going to draw this out for him. Let him see what he’ll be giving up if he tries to walk away.

He spreads Billy wider, wider still until he’s barely sat on the bed at all, until it seems he’s supported as much by Dom’s hands as anything else. Dom presses his cheek to Billy’s knee then, nuzzling the soft skin, his beard brushing against the flesh gently, making Billy gasp, shiver. Dom smiles again, slides his tongue lightly into the damp crease behind Billy’s knee, tasting soap and salt and sweat and the pleasure of Billy moaning from the hot, wet caress.

His fingertips trail lightly up and down the backs of Billy’s legs, drawing irregular shivers from his mate. He wonders idly how long Billy will remain docile under his slow pace. He drags his fingers slowly up Billy’s inner thighs, enjoying the quiver and gasp that his touch elicits as he brushes tantalizing close to Billy’s thick, rigid hard-on. He has to admit his mouth is watering at the sight of Billy, quivering and hard, jutting proudly, delicate skin flushed red with desire against the backdrop of his pale belly and the brown hair curled at the base. It makes him a little harder himself, and he has to resist the urge to stroke either of them the way he’d like to. Not yet.

His fingers tease the creases of Billy’s thighs as they pass, leaving his straining erection untouched, drawing a disgruntled noise from Billy, which Dom ignores with a smile. He smoothes his hands up the taut muscles of Billy’s stomach, leaning in, unable to resist a quick dip of his wet tongue into Billy’s bellybutton. Predictably, Billy bucks his hips, trying for some friction, some contact where he wants it most, but Dom slams him back down, hands on Billy’s hips, forcing them to the bed.

He _tsks_ reprovingly, leaving one hand to pin Billy to the bed, and uses the other to drag his mate down for a long, slow kiss that quickly slides out his control, becoming hot and hard and demanding, until he doesn’t know who’s taking and who’s submitting. He only knows that he needs more, that the hunger within him has sparked and caught flame, and when did Billy’s fingers wind into his hair, angling his mouth against his mate’s, and when did Billy take control with his perfect lips grinding down on Dom’s, and his tongue invading Dom’s mouth and stealing his breath with every hot, slick thrust. Even in the delirium of the kiss, Dom can’t miss what Billy wants, demands. Can’t miss the fact that Billy’s fucking his mouth with his thick, hot tongue the way he wants to do with his thick, hard cock.

And now it’s Dom who’s shuddering, moaning into Billy’s mouth, clutching at his hair, cupping his head and begging wordlessly for more. Now it’s Dom who’s rubbing mindlessly against Billy, searching for friction on his own swollen flesh, the way he feels Billy rubbing into his belly with short, quick thrusts.

He drags his head away, panting heavily, looking into Billy’s eyes and finding them glittering hot and hard on his own. Billy leans forward and kisses him once more, quick and hard, and then pushes him down, hands on his shoulders. “Do it, Dom,” Billy grinds out hoarsely, his face flushed, his breath uneven. “Let me feel your mouth on my cock. Oh Christ, suck me, Dom… _fuck_ …let me feel you.” Billy stops just short of begging, but even as Dom feels his eyes widen, hears a whimper rush from his throat, he promises himself that Billy _will_ beg before this is over.

Letting his mate’s hands guide him, he leans in, one hand on Billy’s thigh for balance, the other wrapping tightly around his pulsing erection, stroking once up the length and holding it firm against Billy’s stomach while he licks wetly up the underside, using the flat of his tongue in a firm, slick stroke that makes Billy moan and buck against his hand, his lips, his tongue. Sliding his hand back down to grip the base, Dom swirls his tongue slickly around the swollen head, purple now, hot and pulsing against his lips as he sucks it into the warm, wet cavity of his mouth, drawing on it in steady pulls while his thumb strokes the vein running underneath almost idly. He can taste Billy’s precum, can feel it spread across his tongue, a rich, velvety tang that he wants to hold in his mouth forever. He rubs the underside of Billy’s shaft, just below the head, with his tongue-tip, feeling Billy stiffen with pleasure at the sensation. He can tell that Billy wants to thrust deeper, so he slides both hands to his mate’s hips, holding firm while he bobs up and down in slow, liquid strokes.

Dom can practically feel Billy vibrating with urgency and frustration, shudders himself as Billy’s hands thrust into his hair, urging him to go faster. He smiles, his lips curving tightly around Billy’s throbbing cock, and then plunges suddenly down, taking Billy in deep, hearing him cry out as Dom’s nose buries itself in the hair at the base of his mate’s cock, and Billy’s cockhead buries itself in Dom’s tight, wet throat. Billy cries out brokenly, and Dom shudders, moans deep in his throat, feeling the vibrations travel through his mate’s rigid flesh. Again and again he surges forward, letting Billy thrust at will now, sliding deep into his throat with every stroke, one of his hands stroking his mate’s balls, rubbing behind them, the other grasping at his mate’s firm arse, pulling him in deeper, making Billy whimper, shudder, moan, stutter mindlessly.

“Fuck, Dom, fuck yes, oh Christ yes… _please_ Dom oh fuck please God need this so bad, suck me harder deeper faster fuckohfuck Dom… _fuck_ –” Billy arches off the bed as Dom slips a finger inside him, sliding unerringly forward to stroke his prostate hard and fast, and Billy’s coming now, coming hard and filling Dom’s mouth in hot, violent thrusts, shuddering and pleading and panting his name, and fuck, but Dom has to stroke himself at that, it’s too much, Billy coming in his mouth, so hot and hard and fuck, but he can barely take it, he’s shuddering on the very edge of his control, but he’ll hold on, has to hold on for his Bills.

As Billy sinks slowly back to the bed, gasping for breath, Dom slips his finger out, but continues to suck him gently dry, letting his silky cum linger in his mouth for a moment before cleaning his mate with slow, gentle licks, and then pressing his lips softly to Billy’s thigh, even as he palms himself hard against his own belly. He feels one of Billy’s hands smooth through his hair, and glide down to cup his cheek, tipping Dom’s face up to meet his stunned gaze.

“Dom,” Billy whispers, and it sends a hard shudder through him. And then Billy’s pulling him up into a kiss that by rights should be hard and hot and full of all the pent up need that Dom still carries, but instead he finds himself brushing Billy lips gently, his touch tender, even as Billy’s tongue thrusts in to find his own taste on Dom’s tongue. He moans softly into Dom’s mouth, and pulls his mate down onto the bed beside him, stretching out together, connected by the warmth of bare skin pressed close and tight to naked flesh.

*

Billy lies there, half-stunned and all sated, knowing he shouldn’t be curling into Dom’s back as he drifts toward sleep, the weight of the hour and his jetlag and his shuddering, shattering completion dragging him away from consciousness. He knows he should pull away, but he doesn’t, can’t care in that moment. The only thing that anchors him to the room, the bed, reality right now is Dom – he feels like he could float away, otherwise, carried on the tide of pleasure’s aftermath – and he can’t let go, for reasons he can’t define.

The only thing that anchors Billy to wakefulness is the quick, furtive movement of Dom’s arm, just barely brushing against his chest, and he slides fully awake again as he realizes Dom is stroking himself quietly, trying not to wake him. Without even thinking, Billy finds his hand gliding down Dom’s arm, covering his stilled fingers with Billy’s own. “Let me,” he whispers into Dom’s neck, pressing a kiss into the sensitive skin there. He feels Dom’s surrendering sigh, smiles against his ear. Another kiss, light and tender, to the delicate patch of skin just below that ear, and Dom shudders hard as his hand falls away, and Billy’s replaces it, thrilling even now to the hard, silky length throbbing hotly against his palm.

From this angle, it’s much like Billy’s used to, like he’s stroking himself, and he swiftly finds a rhythm, a twist of his wrist, a drag of his thumb across the slick, sensitive tip that makes Dom gasp, his head falling back against Billy’s shoulder, Billy’s lips hot and soft on his throat. It’s only moments before he feels Dom grasp his forearm, feels him stiffen and shudder, hears him cry out huskily, “Billy…Billy… _oh God, Billy_ ,” feels the liquid heat of his release spill over Billy’s hand in velvet pulses, visceral as a heartbeat against his fingertips.

“Billy,” Dom whispers one more time, not a question, but a thanks, almost a prayer. Billy’s breath is surprisingly heavy and unsteady against Dom’s bare shoulder, and he finds that he’s half-hard against Dom’s arse, but he just lies there, confused and profoundly shaken, yet not willing to draw away, until sleep takes him.

Dom holds Billy’s arm where it lies, curled around him, unable to sacrifice the sweetness of the embrace for comfort’s sake. He stares into the dark for hours before finding his oblivion, unsure whether it’s the overwhelming intensity of his emotion or the distant threat of hope that scares him more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sees Dom in button fly jeans, and is unsettled by his reaction.

The late afternoon sun streams in, low and glaring through the windshield. It’s hot, too hot for April, Dom thinks distractedly. He should be used to it, but he’s not. It’s too hot, and there’s no rain, and the freeway’s a fucking car park, and he feels twitchy inside his own skin.

Billy’s at home, and he’s here, and even though he’s on his way there now (if traffic would only fucking _move_ ), it still feels _wrong_ , as wrong as Billy living in Glasgow, a continent and an ocean away. As wrong as Billy being with Ali instead of Dom. _Better stop there, Monaghan,_ he warns himself. So Billy’s not with Ali anymore. He’s not with Dom, either, and if he was tempted to forget that last night, well, this morning was, appropriately enough, his wakeup call.

This morning, a scant 12 hours ago, when he bent over Billy’s sprawled form, unable to resist pressing a goodbye kiss to that soft, sleeping mouth before he left for work. One more taste, and he shudders as he thinks about it now, because he _could_ taste, can _still_ taste himself on Billy’s lips, on his tongue. Can still feel how Billy responded, sleepy but passionate, his lips parting, his mouth hot and inviting, his tongue curling over Dom’s own, slick and demanding for a long, breathless moment. And then a backwards jerk, and that expression of shock clouding his beautiful green eyes.

They stared at each other then, for just the slightest of moments, although it seemed to Dom that it took him an eternity to gather his pride and his hopes up off the floor, and stutter a cowardly goodbye before he fled. It’s true he had to get to work, was running late, as he said – when was he not? – but the reality was that he couldn’t stand to stay, to wait for Billy to say the things that would break his heart.

_It wasn’t real, Dom. It didn’t mean anything._

He can hear Billy’s voice in his head as clearly as if his mate were beside him, as clearly as if the words had already been spoken. His imagination’s as good as a memory, anyway; he didn’t need to hear them this morning, because he could hear them all day, through endless blown shots and missed cues and terse remarks from his costars – even a well-meaning talk from the AD. (Bad enough that they’ve got two weeks of last minute re-shoots, but to screw up a whole day’s worth for everyone? Slick, Monaghan. Very slick.) Not that any of it compared to this ache he’s carried around inside all day, though; it’s nothing next to this gut-twisting misery that his mental soundtrack fosters.

But even as the repeating reel plays again, another voice insists that it had to mean _something_. Why now, after all? What changed? And why can’t it continue, grow? What if Billy’s reaction this morning was surprise, not disgust? What if there’s something more there?

A part of him wants to believe that, it really does. But the more logical, realistic part of him rejects the hope, sees how dangerous it really is to walk that line. He presses his temple to the hot glass of the car window, his eyes shut against the glare. He’s loved Billy for so long, and it’s never been returned. If only he could understand what changed, what last night was about, then he could figure out where to go from here. How to move on, and mend.

He needs to concentrate on that, he reminds himself, taking a deep breath. Needs to accept that last night was a fluke, brought on by…something. Billy’s six-week dry spell? A pair of button fly jeans? The breakup with Ali? Something. Something other than having realized after all these years that Billy really loves and wants Dom after all, because Dom knows that’s fantasy, he _knows_ it, and yet he can’t force himself to believe it, to accept it in his stupid, stubborn heart.

He should be thinking now about his next step, about how to win Billy’s trust back, how to repair their friendship, and hope to God it’s not too late. But that part of him that still foolishly hopes won’t let him concentrate on anything other than how to get Billy back in his arms, how to get Billy naked again, and quickly.

And God, does he want Billy naked again. Naked and pressing into him, slow and hot and thick, spreading him apart, making him tremble with need, and then driving into him over and over again before coming deep inside him with Dom’s name on his lips, spilling out in sweet, broken cries as Dom spills hotly into his beautiful hands. Naked and moaning and fucking Dom’s mouth, thrusting deep into his throat, arching off the bed as he comes so hard it nearly chokes Dom, but God, he can still taste it now and it’s so fucking good. Naked and holding him tight, stroking him gently to his own shuddering release, and kissing him, touching him so tenderly Dom can hardly bear for it to be real.

Dom’s throat closes with something, and he doesn’t know whether it’s heartache or need. He’s so bloody confused, and he needs so badly to know where Billy stands, and he’s so damned afraid to find out.

Frustrated, he wonders again, for the millionth time, _what’s changed_. He could feel Billy’s eyes on him at the club, felt it like a cool thrill up his spine. He just didn’t know _why_. Didn’t see the heat, the hunger glittering in them until he got close…close enough to touch – and be touched, he remembers, tugging at the damp, tightening denim of his jeans. He’s always reacted to Billy this way, only narrowly escaping embarrassment many times because of it. He’d been hard all last night at the club, just from being around his best mate, and he’s hard again now, thinking about it.

Fuck, but he can still feel Billy cupping him, squeezing him through the denim, and he shudders with the memory. In some ways it’s more intense than the memory of Billy’s perfect, tight hot wet little mouth wrapped around him, or Billy pulsing deep inside him, because it’s that very first moment that he knew Billy felt, wanted, _needed_ the same things he’d been feeling and wanting and needing for years.

Shit. He drags his mind back to the present. _Have to think, Monaghan. And maybe if you think hard enough, maybe if you get it right, you’ll have a few more memories to keep you sane through all those long, lonely nights after he’s gone,_ he tells himself brutally, fighting down the lump in his throat.

Right. Think. Figure out what changed. He’s pretty sure it’s not the 6-week dry spell, because in New Zealand, hell, they’d been though worse, all of them, especially during the long shoots on the South Island, out in the middle of sodding _nowhere_. And not once had Billy shown any desire to get Dom on his back, on his knees, in his mouth… _for fuck’s sake, Monaghan, think with the other head for a minute, would you?_

New Zealand. Yes. Deep breaths. Think about New Zealand. The car windows shouldn’t be fogging up, shit, it’s a bloody sauna out there. Right. Meditation. Yoga breathing. Good.

_Hands on the steering wheel, mate._

New Zealand.

 _  
“G’morning, Billy!” He couldn’t help bouncing a bit as he plopped down next to his best mate in the back seat of the minivan. Although never a morning person before_ Rings _, the prospect of seeing Billy first thing now made even the long, dark drives to the early-morning call for Feet seem bearable to Dom._

_“Fuck off, Monaghan.” Clearly, Billy was not of the same opinion._

_“Billy?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He knew his friend wasn’t a morning person, either._

_“Sorry, Dom.” Billy sighed, and Dom couldn’t help but feel a bit of concern._

_“S’okay, Bills. You alright?”_

_“Yeah. S’just…you know.” Billy sighed wearily. “It’s half four in the morning, hotter than hell already, and we’ve been working 16 hours a day, 6 days a week for what seems like forever. It’s been two sodding months since any of us have gotten laid – well, maybe Sean, but he doesn’t count – hell, I haven’t even_ seen _a bird outside of the makeup girls since Christmas break…I dunno. Guess I’m just a bit wound up and lonely, you know?”_

_“Aw, Billy,” Dom grinned, desperate to make his voice light as he threw an arm around his mate. “You’ve always got me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively._

_“Piss off, Dom,” Billy retorted, but he was grinning as he rolled his eyes. “Like I’d want to wake up to your hairy arse in my bed. Probably traumatize me for life.”_

_“Oi! My arse isn’t hairy! And we’ve shared a bed more than once, may I remind you,” Dom huffed, trying to ignore the fact that Billy’s objection was to waking up…and not to whatever went on beforehand. Because he didn’t mean anything by it. Dom was realistic enough to know that._

_“Please, _don’t_ remind me!” Billy shuddered expressively. “You _kick_.” But he was laughing now, and that was better than the scowl he’d had on earlier. “Besides, if I were that desperate, I’d just flash my dashing smile at Orli. He’s pretty enough to be a lass, and no lie,” he cackled, oblivious to the hurt written in Dom’s eyes._

_Dom laughed with him then, giving nothing away. He’d risked enough already, and if he was honest, had been reminded of what he already knew: that Billy didn’t want him, and wasn’t going to want him, and he needed to get used to that. Hell, he was young, and this would pass. It always did._

_He grinned at his mate, and kicked him playfully, masquerading his emotions as carefully as always, and praying that they would fade soon._

 

Of course they didn’t. Haven’t. Won’t. He’s resigned himself to that by now, years later. He’ll always love Billy, but he’s hoped he could push that to the side enough to make room for someone else, eventually. Someday, when he’s ready to stop partying and settle down with another person. But now he can’t help but wonder if after last night that will ever be possible. Once you’ve been that close to everything you ever wanted, can you ever be satisfied with a distant second-best?

He lets out an explosive breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. It’s a question that hurts too much to think about, and so he won’t, not just yet. Won’t think about love, because he knows better. Refuses to remember Billy’s slow, tender caresses from the night before. An aberration, brought on by tiredness and pity for Dom having to get himself off. That’s it, and he’d better learn to accept that. He thought he had, but after last night, it’s hard to figure what he knows and accepts.

So, he plows on determinedly, love’s out of the question. What does that leave? A friendship to repair? Maybe if he’s lucky, sex _and_ friendship, at least until the novelty wears off, and Dom can’t hold him anymore, and Billy moves on, leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Can he settle for that?

Can he say no to it?

A horn jolts Dom back to the present, and traffic’s moving once again, and him with it. Just a crawl yet, but moving, traveling inexorably forward, homeward in body while immobilized in heart and mind, frozen in place by confusion and doubt.

*

Dom’s house is fucking spotless. Billy’s certain it’s a novel enough occurrence that Dom’s LA friends would be shocked to see it. _He_ sure is.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, actually. He started out just laundering the sheets, which seemed like the decent (not to mention sanitary) thing to do. And then one thing led to another. The pizza boxes on the coffee table. The dishes with unidentifiable life forms growing on them in the sink. He literally had to stop himself from waxing the kitchen floor. Fuck.

That’s not normal. More than once, he’d crankily demanded to know why his favorite shirt wasn’t in his drawer, only to have Ali tell him that it’s still lying (under several other layers of clothing, usually) on the bedroom floor, where he left it whenever he’d worn it last. She gave up on making him clean up his own messes long ago, instead demanding that he confine them to his side of the room.

And his other cleaning habits are just as bad. Fuck, he’s only about 60% sure that the flat he shared with Ali had a dishwasher. He’s surprised he even remembered how to properly dilute the solution he used to mop the floor. His gran would no doubt be proud, he thinks with a wry grimace.

However it happened, it’s had the desired effect. He’s feeling much calmer now, much more assured and normal, thanks to the mindless physical labor. He knows that whatever’s going on will sort itself out – hell, will probably be sorted by the time Dom walks in the door. This…temporary madness…will be over. Normality will return. Dom will just be his mate again, not a bloke he wants to shag into next week. Or year. Or – Billy cuts off that thought. Because it’s not an issue.

Sure, they’ll have to sort things out between them, but they’re Billy&Dom. They’ll manage it. Everything will be fine. It might even be better for Dom this way. Help him see that Billy’s not really what he wants, help him move on.

This morning, he wasn’t feeling so _normal_ , he can admit that. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but waking up in the middle of a kiss that felt simultaneously hot (Dom’s lips, warm and firm and caressing, Dom’s tongue, curling slick and heated over his own, coaxing him to consciousness and swift arousal) and loving (Dom’s strong hands gently cupping his face, tenderly stroking his hair) and _right_ – his mind balks at that, searches for another description, but can’t find one ( _fuck_ ), so he ignores it and continues – was…well, incredible, he can admit that. Bit of a shock when he realized it was his best mate on the other end of it, though.

Billy’s throat tightens a little as he remembers the quickly-shuttered pain in Dom’s eyes when he jerked back. Fuck. Well, okay, maybe it will take Dom a while to come around, but this really is for the best, he reassures himself. He’s realized that since this morning, when he’d been so disoriented and confused. Dom will realize it, too, in time.

Everything will be fine. This is for the best. He ignores the fact that he seems to be repeating himself a bit much. Because it’s fine. For the best. Fuck.

He wonders whether he should order them some take-away for dinner. Then he wonders when Dom will be home. And he wonders whether they usually order take-away without consulting each other. Because he can’t seem to remember now. It’s all a little hazy, suddenly, what he should and shouldn’t be doing. Because couples order food without asking each other, right? Fuck.

He wonders if he should wax the floor after all. And then he hears a car pull up.

Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

Dom’s face is tight and lined with fatigue when he finally walks into the kitchen, where Billy’s still contemplating the unwaxed floor. His clothes hang loosely from him, as if he’s lost weight over the course of the day, and he looks miserable. Billy immediately feels remorseful – well, almost. He’s secure enough in his sexuality to admit that he doesn’t feel any real regret for last night, selfish bastard that he is, even if it’s made things more complicated. He does feel bad that Dom looks so tired and worried, though.

He studies his mate’s face, looking for some indication that last night’s madness has passed, or that it’s still there to be dealt with. But nothing strikes him, and he assures himself that that in itself is a sign.

It occurs to him then that normally Dom would have flung the door open and yelled “Honey, I’m home”, or something equally silly. Something goofy and Dom-ish, and not like this drawn-looking lad who’s desperately avoiding eye contact with him. Something constricts in Billy’s throat, choking whatever greeting he might have offered. His assurance takes a steep dive as the silence stretches out.

“Long day?” he manages eventually, seeing that Dom’s not about to speak, that he seems frozen in place, leaned against the counter with his hands shoved in his pockets – back to his baggies again – and his expression deliberately distant, neutral.

“Yeah,” Dom replies, almost gratefully, lifting his gaze to the space over Billy’s left shoulder. “A long one.”

Billy nods, feeling idiotic, stiff. Pause. “So, um. Dinner?”

A long, soft sigh. Dom’s looking at the floor again. “I’m a bit tired tonight. You mind if we order in?”

“Not at all!” Billy replies, too quickly, too heartily.

“Great.” Dom’s voice is lifeless in a manner that could be signaling fatigue, or something else.

Billy’s leaning heavily toward “something else”.

He watches as Dom reaches for the phone, hits speed dial, and orders Thai without asking Billy. His favorite dish, of course. But that’s not the point. Or is it? Billy can’t remember anymore. He finds himself staring at Dom’s lips as he orders, not really hearing the words, but entranced by the movement, the softfirm contours.

 _Temporary madness_ , he tells himself firmly. Perhaps a bit frantically. _Over_.

Except he’s not feeling too sane at the moment.

*

Dinner arrives quickly, and the awkwardness fades into the background, still present, but not stifling. They eat in the living room, the TV serving as a distant soundtrack and, occasionally, a welcome distraction. The talk is only slightly stilted, restricted mainly to work and the food in front of them and everything except the conversation they want to have done with, but don’t want to have – what was last night, will it happen again, what are we now? All still unanswered. Eventually, the food’s been devoured, and they’ve caught up on the latest happenings on the Archers and the Sopranos, and silence falls.

“Billy.” Dom’s so surprised to find that he’s the one who’s spoken that he forgets to continue for a moment.

“Yes, Dom?” Billy’s voice matches his: calm, serious. Sober.

“About last night…”

“What about it?” Fuck. Billy doesn’t mean to be difficult, really he doesn’t. He wants to explain to Dom, make him see that it’s only that he doesn’t want to have this talk, doesn’t want to hurt his mate, but when he meets Dom’s gaze, he gets lost for a moment, unbalanced by the emotions there. Fear. Pain. Need, both physical and emotional, but more of the latter. Only Billy’s twitching cock doesn’t know the difference, apparently. Billy looks away again, shifts uncomfortably. _Madness_.

“What…what the hell, Billy?”

“I dunno, Dom. I wish I did. I guess I was just lonely and…horny and curious, really, and not necessarily sober” – that’s a lie and they both know it, but Billy keeps rambling, uninterrupted – “and you were someone I trusted and…fuck, Dom, I don’t know.”

Dom inhales sharply, but when he speaks, his voice is soft and curt. “Right. So, curiosity satisfied?”

Billy aches for the pain he can practically feel vibrating from Dom. Anyone else might be fooled by Dom’s seemingly calm, steady voice, but Billy knows his mate better than he knows himself. And it hurts. Better to get it over with. For the best. “Yeah. Sorry, mate. I…it was a mistake. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Dom nods, smiling slightly, calmly, his eyes turbulent. “Nothing to apologize for. I’ve had worse.” His mouth quirks tightly, offering the joke.

Billy smiles in half-hearted response. He wishes this were easier for both of them, and knows it’s his fault that it’s not. And still, he can’t muster any real regret. Fuck, but he’s a selfish prick.

“So…” The word hangs there for a moment, before Dom continues, his voice edged with barely-perceptible tension. “Did I tell you that Orlando’s flying in, and he wants to get together with us and Sean and Doodle before we have to fly back to Oahu for the location pickups? He’s got some club he wants us to go to…”

Conversation pretends toward normalcy for a few minutes, but then fades in light of the dull, tight mood. After a while, they settle into almost-comfortable silence. Almost.

If they were anyone but Billy&Dom, “almost” might be good enough, Billy admits, sinkingly. But once you’ve been Billy&Dom…well, then “almost” is fucking torture.

*

Billy is thinking about breasts. Specifically, he’s trying to decide whether or not Pamela Anderson looks better with or without the implants. This is a topic he’s deemed entirely acceptable for an up-till-recently unquestionably straight man to contemplate. He’s most certainly not thinking of crawling across the room to the recliner where Dom’s sat, pushing into the space between his legs, drawing down the zip of his baggy jeans (no button flies today, he can’t be thinking this), and sucking him off, slowly, dragging out the torturous pleasure until Dom’s begging for release.

The thoughts he’s not having make his mouth go dry, and he licks his lips, noticing that Dom’s eyes flicker over to him, watching the movement before his mate catches himself and returns his attention to his script. Blood rushes to Billy’s groin at the way the awareness and tension in the room skyrocket suddenly. He can practically hear Dom breathing, can feel it all the way over here, and it makes him shiver and lose his page in the magazine he’s supposedly reading. The one with Pamela Anderson. And breasts.

He can’t remember now why he’s been so twitchy all day, why this attraction’s given him such fits. When has “straight” ever been such a big deal for him, anyway?

 _Since you started to suspect you weren’t really – or not entirely, at least_ , a little voice replies.

But who the hell cares? No one close to him, that’s for certain. He has an uncle who’s gay, and neither he nor Margaret have ever loved Neil less for it. Even Gran took young Neil into her home when his older brother – Billy’s father – passed away, even though he was from the other side of the family, and a bloody poof to boot. She didn’t care a mite, although she asked him not to bring his lads home after Billy and his sister moved in. So Neil spent a few nights a week away from home. Billy got the feeling, years later when he thought back, that she would have asked the same if Neil had preferred female company.

He sighs mentally. It’s not about that, and when he thinks about it, being gay or bisexual probably wouldn’t be such a big deal… _if_ he were in love, instead of just getting his rocks off. But he’s not, and it’s not really worth the hassle for something purely physical, _especially_ given Dom’s feelings for him, feelings he can’t really pretend aren’t there anymore.

If it weren’t for the prospect of hurting his best mate, the most important bloke to him in the world, he’d be tempted. Okay, he _is_ tempted. Christ, when did Dom get so fucking beautiful, and how did he not notice until now? When did his lips, his eyes, the agile twist of his hips and bend of his knees become so incendiary, so desperately sexy? Even his bloody big ears – which another, more devilish voice points out, would probably make marvelously convenient handles – are turning Billy on, now that he’s been awakened to the possibilities. Fuck.

He tosses aside his magazine and gets up, intent on escaping temptation, but finds that his feet are apparently taking orders from his thickening cock, instead. His knees, too, he realizes, as he sinks to them in front of his mate, nudging Dom’s denim clad thighs apart with warm, treacherous palms and curling, clenching fingers.


	7. Chapter 7

He slides his palms up the warm length of Dom’s inner thighs, fascinated by the feel of the muscles trembling beneath the denim, as his mate’s breath rushes out in a surprised burst. His thumbs press into the twin creases at Dom’s hips, unable to resist the teasing caress, and his left hand slides over the firm, growing bulge waiting for him, radiating heat into his needing, grasping palm. His right hand spider-walks its way up to the zip, as Dom shifts and presses upward into his grip, the script falling unnoticed to the floor.

“Billy.” Dom’s voice is choked, no more than a gasp.

Billy smiles, squeezes for the pure satisfaction of seeing Dom buck his hips, hearing his breath stutter out. He looks up, and his own breath catches at the intensity of his mate’s half-lidded stare.

“Billy,” Dom tries again, gasping as Billy tugs his zipper down, and spreads the denim greedily with both hands. “What happened to – oh God –”

Billy’s hands have found him again, naked and hot and rigid and flushed at the tip where Billy’s thumb strokes silkily, coaxing a groan from his mate, as he lifts Dom’s thickening erection carefully from the confines of his jeans.

“Yes, Dom?” Billy’s voice is meant to be calm, teasing, but he’s a little breathless, he can’t help it, because Christ, he remembers _this_ like he’s been here a million times, like it’s been minutes, not hours since he’s had the dark, swollen head of Dom’s hard cock inches from his lips, visibly pulsing, jerking at his touch, at his hot breath, and dear fucking Christ, but he’s been waiting to do this again, craving it and not wanting to admit it, but he’s here now, and if he doesn’t have Dom’s dick in his mouth in the next five seconds, he might just scream.

 _Well, that’s it, then,_ says that little voice calmly. _I guess that answers_ that _question._ With equal calm, he tells the voice to bugger off, and mercifully, it does.

“What happened” _gasp_ “to this being – oh shit do that again…your thumb…oh _fuck_ , Billy –” _moan_ “a mistake?” Dom finishes the question with difficulty as the tip of Billy’s thumb teases his cockhead thoughtfully, and Billy licks his lips, their gazes still locked.

“Dom,” Billy breathes fiercely, less in control than he’d like to admit. “Shut the fuck up and let me suck your cock, yeah?”

He can’t even put a name to the desperate, needy sound Dom makes then, but he wants to hear it again, so very badly. He’s stiff as fuck in his own trousers, but he can’t spare a hand to do anything about it, what with one pulling back Dom’s foreskin so he can lick just _there_ wetly – fuck, yeah, that’s the sound – and the other burrowing into the damp cotton of Dom’s jeans and rolling his balls gently, delicately, and then cupping and tugging, just to make Dom buck his hips and _pantwhimpergroan_. And fuck yes, Billy’s hard, but just now he’s more concerned with the way Dom’s hard, and hot and fucking _alive_ in his mouth, the way Dom’s gasping and arching, and Billy’s fucking doing it, he’s making Dom make those noises, making him curse and claw at the upholstery and twist with need under Billy’s hotwetslickhungry mouth.

Billy shudders, loving it and wondering how he ever thought he didn’t want _this_ , the knowledge that he can make Dom moan and writhe and fucking _come_ for him – not yet, he reminds himself, he was going to take this slow (but it’s so easy to forget when Dom whimpers his name like that – fuck, but he loves that), but he _will_ make Dom come for him, make him beg and plead and jerk and _need_ , and come so hard he won’t remember his own fucking name. The very thought makes him moan around Dom’s cock, the vibrations shuddering up his mate’s body.

“Fuck, Billy, _fuck_ , I can’t take that,” Dom gasps. His hands thread their way at last into Billy’s hair, urging him closer, at odds with his desperate words.

Billy just draws back and laughs breathily, letting warm air bathe the blunt, wet, oversensitized head of Dom’s cock before reaching out and lapping at the underside with his velvetrough tongue, drawing a hiss from his mate. “Oh, I’m betting you can take a whole fucking lot more than that, Dominic,” he chuckles.

Dom just gapes at him, eyes glazed and lips swollen from biting down on them, and Billy’s cock surges hard against his restrictive trousers at the sight. _Fuck_ , yes. He sits back, and jerks Dom’s jeans down and off in an impatient, ungentle rush, tossing them aside and sweeping calloused fingers and rough palms up the newly-exposed and exquisitely sensitive flesh of Dom’s inner thighs, spreading them wide open for him as he goes, and making his mate gasp and jerk upward into his greedy hands. Fuck, but that’s hot. His dick is trying to force its way through his own trousers right now, he’s so fucking hard just from sucking Dom off – no, he corrects himself, just from _starting_ , just from having Dom’s thick, thrusting cock in his hands, in his mouth, and _fuck_ , but he wants all of Dom, wants him _now_ , but he’ll wait. He’ll wait, if it means seeing, hearing those swollen lips moan his name again, and then _again_ , cry out and beg him for his hands, his mouth, his cock. Whatever he wants to give, and he knows Dom will take it and whimper for more.

The realization makes him shudder with sudden, fierce satisfaction, even as hot need spikes through him, sharp and sweet, a fire in his veins, a fevered tightness in his balls. His hips snug tight against the front of the recliner, forcing Dom’s calves further apart, and his mouth surges down, recklessly taking Dom back in, feeling the warm underside of the velvet head pressingpulsingsliding slowly over his curling tongue as he drinks in the sensation. He purses his lips tight around the stiff shaft as he sinks down further, feeling Dom’s heartbeat, stuttering and immediate against every warm, intimate surface of his mouth.

He drinks in the visceral throb, and the hint of salt – just sweat now, but soon he’ll taste the addictive tang of Dom’s precum, and the thought makes him hollow his cheeks and draw on Dom’s cock in short, sharp sucks that make his mate cry out and buck hard into Billy’s mouth, the blunt head brushing the back of his throat as Dom pants and whimpers above him.

Billy’s hand is splayed across Dom’s stomach, the vee of his thumb and forefinger holding his mate’s foreskin back, granting Billy access to the sensitive underside, the pulsing vein that feels so good, so hot and alive against his tongue. He presses the hand down firmly. He means to draw this out, and if he lets Dom thrust at will – and Christ, it feels so fucking good, feeling him push hard into Billy’s mouth, hearing him moan, low and guttural, then higher and desperate, and just letting Dom fuck his mouth makes Billy so goddamned hard he can’t breath, and who the hell cares about sore jaws and gag reflexes when you’ve got Dom, hot and thick and insistent on your tongue, pressing at the back of your throat, while his elegant hands fist in your hair and his beautiful mouth begs for more – but if he lets Dom do that, this isn’t going to last long for either of them, he thinks, rubbing against the recliner without realizing it.

And he’s going to do this right. If he can’t keep his hands and his mouth and his dick to himself – and he can’t, there’s no question, and he was fooling himself to think there was – then this is his penance to Dom, his apology for inadvertently doing to his mate’s heart what he wants so badly to do to his body. He’s going to make Dom come like a fucking freight train, make him burn and shatter and fly apart for him, because he wants to do that for Dom. And fuck, Billy can’t lie to himself, he needs to see it, hear it, fucking _feel_ it for himself.

His hands grasp Dom’s hips tightly, bruising fair skin as he forces them down, to stillness. He takes a deep breath and releases it, feeling the flesh beneath his lips quiver. And then he relaxes his jaw and sinks wetly down, his lips still wrapped tight and close and hungry around Dom’s rigid, jerking cock, until he feels that thick head brush the back of his throat, and then –

“Fuck, Billy, _fuck_ , oh fuck, don’t stop,” Dom gasps thickly, his eyes wide, his breathing ragged, his hips fighting Billy’s grip as he twists and writhes beneath his mate’s talented, rhythmic mouth.

And Billy wants to listen to that husky need, fuck yes he does, wants nothing more than to feel Dom buck and thrust and come in his mouth, to taste him, hot and thick and slippery on his hungry tongue. He shudders fiercely, and slows his bobbing pace, looks up at his mate, sees the need written in his glazed eyes and the taut vein in his neck and lips that are mouthing silent words, pleading words like “yes” and “fuck” and “please” and “Billy”. Billy’s hips slam into the front of the recliner, and he sucks Dom’s cock, hard and greedy and desperate until he hears Dom yell his name, and feels Dom’s hands grasp his head almost roughly and push it down – _deeper oh fuck yes deeper_ – and feels Dom’s engorged tip spread his throat open and fill it with his thick, swollen cockhead in one urgent thrust.

Billy growls, low and deep, and the vibrations are so intense that he feels Dom’s cock swell, the head pushing at the tight, gripping muscles of his throat, and he has to pull back and grab his mate, his hand squeezing tight around the base of Dom’s cock, even as Dom’s hips rock toward him, and Dom’s balls rise, tight and full and taut against his hand.

“Not yet,” Billy tells him, breathless. The tart taste of Dom’s precum is painted over his tongue now, and it’s all he can do not to take Dom in again, take that jerking, straining cock all the way to its base and let Dom fuck his mouth, because it makes him hunger for more like a starving man at a feast.

Billy wonders suddenly, wildly, where his self-control went, because it was supposed to be Dom pleading, and him in charge, but he bloody near came when he felt Dom push his head down, and he’s teetering on the edge again as he watches, slack-jawed, as Dom wraps a hand firmly around the fist that still holds his visibly-pulsing cock in check – Dom holding him holding Dom. For a second, all he sees is Dom’s strong, elegant hand and Dom’s flushed, rigid cock, and a voice points out that he’d like to see _that_ again at some point, but he files the thought away for future consideration, and mentally clears his throat. Got to get control here. Get it back, anyway.

“When, Billy?” Dom’s voice is husky and thick, but not pleading. _Not yet._

Feeling Dom’s gaze like a heated caress, Billy dips his head, and deliberately drags the flat of his tongue up Dom’s inner thigh, pausing to seal his wet mouth to a patch of sensitive flesh, inches from their hands, and suck hard through his teeth, making Dom gasp and surge hungrily into their combined grasp.

He lifts his head, and looks straight into Dom’s hooded eyes, and purrs, “When I hear you beg.”

Dom’s eyes go liquid and intense and darker still, almost black now, and his tongue slithers out to wet his slack lips as he holds Billy’s gaze for a moment, not giving an inch. Billy’s not sure where this Dom came from, whether he pushed too far (or far enough, rather, because he has to admit, this rebellious, half-sneering Dom has him hot and hard as hell and fucking frantic with need just below the barely-controlled surface, and he wants _more_ ), or whether this is the real Dom after all, and except for that brief flash at the club last night, the acquiescent, submissive Dom he’s seen has all been an act for his benefit.

“Make me,” Dom suggests silkily, his jaw cocked insolently, his voice throbbing, both challenge and invitation.

And Billy wants to do. _Fuck_ , but he wants that. Wants to hear Dom moan again, make him beg against his will, make him whimper for Billy, and know that _he_ was the one who forced it out of him.

And he wants it because the sound of Dom’s voice, demanding and hot, makes need spike and surge through Billy like an electric current, makes his nerve endings sizzle with heat and want, makes his straining hard-on jerk violently, and fuck, if Dom says – _orders_ – anything else in that voice, Billy’s going to fucking come in his pants and beg for more while he does.

He tries to conceal the way he’s lightly panting, his fingers clenching, struggles to figure out just who’s in control here, but only for a second. It takes him that long to realize he doesn’t care, and he wants Dom’s cock in his mouth again as badly as Dom does. He’d rather not examine that, so instead he turns his attention to examining the underside of Dom’s full, jutting erection. With his tongue.

Dom exhales harshly as Billy sucks him in roughly, his wet tongue swirling around the thick head, as his lips wrap tight and hot around the thrumming, pulsing shaft. Not giving him time to adjust or take in the sensation of a tight, wet mouth surrounding him again, Billy plunges down to the base, and sucks hard at the same time, initiating a bobbing, sucking rhythm that has Dom grunting and thrusting into his mouth in no time.

But still not begging. Billy remembers hazily that that was the point here.

He lashes Dom’s swollen flesh with his velvetrough tongue, takes him deeper into the liquid embrace of his tight little mouth and slick, clenching throat, swallows him faster, harder. His fingers find and press and rub the spot behind Dom’s balls that makes him tense and arch – but not beg.

“Unnh,” Dom grunts, defiant and taunting. “Fuck yeah. Don’t stop sucking.” Orders, not pleas. One hand in Billy’s hair, pressing down implacably. Billy’s afraid it’ll be _him_ pleading soon, if Dom doesn’t shut up.

He doesn’t. “Oh God yes, _fuck_ yes…right there, ah fuck…better suck me better than – unnhhh, fuck yeah – better than that, Bill…mmm, fuck. Not – shit – not begging yet, am I? Unnhhh, yeah, faster, fuckBillyfuck….oh, _fuck_!”

Dom’s panting, gasping, both hands now guiding Billy’s head up and down on his glistening, saliva-slicked cock, his dilated eyes locked on Billy’s hands, which have ripped his own zip down, freeing his thick, urgently jerking erection. He feels Dom’s gaze, heavy and smoldering as he strokes himself hard and fast, as he feels his cock swell hotly beneath his touch, even as Dom’s voice penetrates the pounding rush of blood in his ears.

“Oh fuck, Billy, yes, oh fuck, yes… _please_ , Billy, oh fuck oh fuck pleasedon’tstop pleasepleaseneedthisneedyou _please_ …” Dom’s surrender is sudden and desperate and complete, his voice pitched higher with need, mindlessly keening for release, and Billy struggles to maintain his rhythm on Dom’s cock even as he jerks himself roughly toward ecstasy under Dom’s feverish, penetrating stare. _Fuck_ , Billy echoes, shuddering, shaking, remembering at the last minute that he means not to come yet, and slowing his hand’s pace with infinite regret.

“Billy…Billy…” Dom’s whimpers break through Billy’s haze of arousal, even as his hips snap forward, hard and unchecked, bucking deep into Billy’s mouth and down his throat without Billy’s hands to stop him. He throws his head back, thrusting and bucking and whimpering sweetly with need.

Billy’s hands grasp Dom’s hips hard, darkening the bruises he’s already made on the fair skin as he fights to keep his throat relaxed. _Breathe. Breathe, Boyd. That’s it. Take in air, thick with sex, drink it up along with the lush sounds of Dom’s urgent moans, the decadent feel of his flesh, thick and hot and flushed pushing deep into your mouth, nudging and penetrating and spreading your throat open to take him in deeper, faster. Now swallow. Suck and swallow and fuck, can’t help but moan with the burning pleasure of it, and oh God yes, he’s coming, coming, fuck yes, he’s coming, shuddering and jerking and coming in your mouth, deep and salty and rich and overwhelming, can’t stop shaking, can’t stop sucking, don’t want to swallow, don’t want to stop, fuck, you’re going to come too, if you don’t…_

Billy opens his eyes, has to see Dom come apart for him, and he is, he’s rushing, soaring, shimmering and shuddering, igniting and shattering and crying out Billy’s name, and his eyes are so fucking beautiful that Billy has to swallow hard, and Dom cries out again from the pure sensation. It’s a little too much, and profoundly perfect, all at once, and Dom’s shaken and helpless in its grip.

He’s shuddering at irregular intervals, his breath shallow and uneven, and Billy strokes his hip soothingly, even as he sucks the last drops from his mate’s cock. Which doesn’t seem to understand that it’s supposed to be shrinking now, Billy notices with something akin to amusement, or as close as he can come to it in his overheated, hyperaroused state.

When he releases his mate’s cock, Dom shudders, and Billy can’t help but wrap his hand around him again. Soothing. Right, soothing. Billy licks his lips, tasting Dom on them. He closes his eyes, savoring the sensation, and wonders how long his mate will need to recover. He looks up at Dom’s face, watching the gentling of lips and faintly blue eyelids as the last of the aftershocks fades away.

Dom’s eyes open slowly, finding his, and Billy’s shaken by the openness he sees in them. Love, pain, fear, vulnerability; Dom can’t hide anything right now, and Billy feels a surge of protectiveness so intense that it scares him. He rises to his feet and pulls Dom up as well, boneless as he is just then. Just for a moment, he presses Dom close, holding him tightly, feeling arms go around him with painful hesitance, feeling him tremble with something Billy knows has nothing to do with the intensity of his orgasm. Feeling his own heart pound in his chest, and silently accepting that lust isn’t the reason he suddenly doesn’t want to let his best mate go.


End file.
